


Lavender's Blue (Dilly Dilly)

by ObscureReference



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Cinderella Elements, Dancing, Kissing, M/M, Male Cinderella, Masks, Masquerade Ball, Mentioned Ignis/Noctis, Mentioned Lunafreya/Nyx, Mentioned Noctis/Lunafreya, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: Prince Noctis technically already has a fiancé, but Insomnia is holding a ball for potential suitors anyway. Prompto couldn't care less. He's just there to take catch Emperor Iedolas in the act of being the evil guy they all know he is, and thereby secure himself and Aranea safe passage into Lucis.Gladio is Prince Noctis' sworn Shield, and if that means kicking nosy photographers out of the ball, then so be it.---“You can stay,” Gladiolus finally relented. Prompto straightened. “Ifyou don’t enter the rest of the castle. You have to stay in the ballroom. No exploring.”“Done,” Prompto said quickly. The Emperor and his guards would probably be stuck in the ballroom anyway, entertaining King Regis and the other world leaders. Prompto didn’t need to go anywhere else.“And you stay by me the rest of the night.”“D—What?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This should probably be beta'd, but I know I won't. Tell me if you see any mistakes though! It's a long fic, so I'm sure I've missed something.
> 
> Also this is super self-indulgent, but I don't care. I love fairy tales with all my heart. I can't remember if it's actually canon that Gladio reads ridiculous romance books or not, but it is now. Welcome to super Romantic!Sappy!Gladio. He's hidden underneath Gladio's tough guy exterior. I love him.
> 
> The title is taken from the Lavender's Blue (Dilly Dilly) song from the live action Cinderella movie.

The tailor left, bundles of fabric and pins and measuring tape in her arms, and Gladio finally let his guard down enough to wrinkle his nose, imitating Noctis’ own face. Noctis didn’t seem impressed in the least.

“Your dad sure knows how to throw a party, huh?” Gladio said, thinking of the million new draperies and sparkling decorations and servants with their arms full of dishes that they had seen all day.

“I guess,” Noctis said. He sighed and threw himself onto the couch, no doubt relishing the relaxation after standing statue still for the tailor. Gladio smirked.

“His Highness isn’t pleased with standing still for hours on end?” he asked. Noctis threw a pillow at him, and Gladio easily ducked. “Was it something I said?”

Noctis looked at the other pillow within arm’s length, seemingly debating about whether or not to throw it as well, but after a moment he sank into the cushions.

“I don’t even get why we’re throwing a ball anyway,” he said. “I mean, I _get_ it. Obviously, it’s good to know where the other kingdoms stand and see if they’ll show their hand in trying to impress us. But still…”

“But it’s no good being set on display,” Gladio finished. “And you’re still going to marry Lady Lunafreya no matter what.” He paused and after making sure they were truly alone, added, “With some advisor and personal guard on the side.”

A second pillow was thrown his way. Gladio let it hit his shoulder as a consolation prize.

It was a secret to the court at large, but the two of them both knew Noctis and Lady Lunafreya would be very happy together. Gladio also knew that they would also be very happy with their other respective loves, Ignis and Nyx. Secretly, he thought it was like a plot taken from one of his very own romance novels—not that he could ever mention that fact without Noctis turning the tables on him. The only difference between real life and the books seemed to be that everyone involved in the prince’s love tangle was apparently on the same page and fine with sharing.

That was the only part Gladio found unrealistic. It seemed too good to be true. But he wasn’t going to begrudge his friend for having his shit together. It was about time, anyway.

“It’s only three days,” Gladio assured him. “Three days and then they’ll announce the engagement, and you’ll be home free. I’m sure you can withstand tailor meetings and entertaining maidens until then.”

Noctis groaned loudly, all the teenage persona he had supposedly left behind a few years ago suddenly rushing back. Gladio laughed.

 

 

 

 

Prompto struggled with his buttons. He had lined them up wrong, and now he had to undo all of them again to figure out where the problem lay.

“Quit sticking your tongue out like that,” Aranea chastised. She looked stunning in her black and silver basque waist dress. Too bad the real party didn’t begin for another day. “You look like a dog. Royals don’t do that.”

“But I’m _not_ a royal,” Prompto complained for what felt like the thousandth time. Aranea swatted his fingers away and pointed out where he’d gone wrong. He smiled sheepishly at her before frowning again. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Aranea adjusted her hair in the mirror. He had never seen her so done up before. But then again, she was really insisting they blend in this time. “Relax, it’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Prompto said.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry so much. I’m going to get an ulcer just by looking at you.”

“Good. Share my pain.”

“Dramatic.”

Prompto fiddled with his collar.

“Bigs and Wedge don’t have to dress up,” he accused.

“Bigs and Wedge are on standby. They don’t _have_ to dress up.”

Lucky them. Prompto felt ridiculous, despite both Aranea and the store clerk assuring him that this was what all the high-class people wore and _yes_ , he looked _fine_. He hoped it was worth it. These outfits had cost them a pretty penny, and yet he still felt like a dog someone had tried to put in fancy clothes.

“Why can’t I be on standby too?” Prompto asked. Part of him was secretly excited for the ball. Who didn’t like to party? The rest of him was shaking in his boots at the thought of what they were about to do. Plus, it was a _fancy_ party, and Prompto certainly didn’t belong at those.

“Because _I_ have to gather intel and _you_ have to take pictures of any suspicious activity you see.” She flicked his nose and ignored the way Prompto squawked. “Don’t sweat it. This will be easy.”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, rubbing his nose. “Easy except for the part where we’re totally betraying Niflheim in front of the Emperor and all his top guards!”

His arms had flown up in the air by the end of his sentence. Suddenly Aranea was there, her hands covering his mouth, her smile gone.

“Do you want to announce that any louder?” she hissed. “I don’t think they heard you in Lestallum!”

Prompto pulled his best “I’m sorry” face. Aranea took pity on him and backed off. A lock of her hair had fallen out of its bun, and she shoved another bobby pin in her hair to keep it in place.

“Sorry,” he said. He knew what a precarious position they were in. Showing their hand too soon was only going to get them killed.

Aranea’s response was clipped. “Just be careful.”

“Gotcha.”

Prompto flopped back onto the hotel bed and rolled around until his head was hanging off the side of the mattress. He watched, upside down, as his pseudo-sister fiddled with her hair.

Eventually, after Prompto watched her fight her outfit into a stalemate, Aranea caught his eye in the mirror and sighed. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I can manage on my own.”

“Yeah,” Prompto said. “But it’s way easier if I’m there.”

Aranea didn’t say anything because it was true.

“Besides,” Prompto said, pulling himself upright and turning to look at her again. “Insomnia’s looking pretty good this time of year.”

This time Aranea cracked a smile. Prompto returned it full blast.

“Okay,” she said. “Get out of those clothes. We can’t have you showing up to the King’s ball in wrinkles. What kind of high class citizen would you be then?”

“A fake one.”

“True.”

It had taken Prompto forever to figure out how to put his outfit on right. He stifled a sigh as he walked into the bathroom and got to work, distracting himself by reviewing once more how he had gotten to this point in his life.

 _Recipe to make a Prompto_ , he thought.

 _Step One:_ Be a child. Somehow escape from weird medical experiments at the hands of your government.

 _Step Two:_ Live with another former test subject on the streets. Don’t die.

 _Step Three:_ Listen to that orphan when she says she’s going to become “a fucking badass” one day.

 _Step Four:_ Learn how to fight. Become a mercenary.

 _Step Five:_ Work for the government that tried to experiment on you and your friend as children.

 _Step Six:_ That’s a terrible idea.

 _Step Seven:_ Do it anyway.

 _Step Eight:_ Get good.

 _Step Nine:_ Get trusted.

 _Step Ten:_ Learn Insomnia is searching for a future queen. Find out Niflheim will be there.

 _Step Eleven:_ Plan on finding incriminating evidence of Niflheim schemes and present it to Insomnia’s king so you can live in a new kingdom and not be executed on sight by either party.

Solid. Super solid plan.

Prompto was about ninety percent certain they were going to fail horribly—either from lack of evidence or, more likely, getting caught— and would be executed by the Emperor immediately. Or, worse, he and Aranea would be found out for the failed test subjects they were and taken back to the labs. That was certainly possible.

He shuddered. The chances of failure were high, but like _hell_ was he going to allow any of that to happen while he was still alive. Even though just the thought of it gave him nightmares.

It wasn’t like they even knew for a fact that the Emperor had something evil planned. Aranea and the rest of them, as mercenaries, were still technically outsiders. They weren’t high enough on the official food chain to learn anything _really_ important. Lucis’ open invitation just seemed like too good an opportunity for Niflheim to pass up.

It was possible their best course of action really was doing nothing. It wasn’t like the Niflheim commanders had caught onto them yet. Plus, Aranea was making a pretty good crew for herself where they were.

On the flipside, Prompto hadn’t been lying when he said he’d follow Aranea anywhere. He wasn’t about to turn his eight-year-old self into a liar. Also, he really had heard Insomnia was nice this time of year. Certainly lacking in the dark clouds and evil overlords that made Niflheim what it was.

“Relax,” Aranea said once they were dressed in their normal clothes again, bumping his arm with hers. “Nothing is going to go wrong.”

Prompto grimaced. “Now you’re just trying to jinx us.”

Aranea snorted.

 

 

 

 

It had been a little tumultuous at first, but by the time the first evening of the ball rolled around, the castle looked pretty stellar, if Gladio did say so himself. Not that he had any hand in the decorating. But he could appreciate how the castle looked with all its shining crystals hanging from the ceiling and the gilded Lucis Caelum royal crest plastered on everything. The castle was always in top shape, but it was something else when they expected guests. There hadn’t been an event this large in years.  

“Are you sufficiently prepared for tonight, Highness?” Ignis asked, adjusting his tie. His black suit was crisp and spotless. Gladio hadn’t expected any less.

“As I’ll ever be,” Noctis grumbled. As the time of his suitors’ arrival drew closer, his mood had worsened.

Gladio felt for him. He just also liked making fun of him too.

He did just that. “Do you have that stick I gave you? You’ll have to keep the worst of the vultures away somehow.”

Noctis punched his arm. Gladio laughed, and even Ignis cracked a smile.

“I’m serious about a weapon though,” Gladio added, more seriously. “I don’t trust Niflheim.”

“We’re in the heart of Lucis surrounded by Crowsguard and all our allies,” Noctis said. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you seriously think Niflheim is going to try anything? They’re not bringing an army.”

“You never know,” Gladio warned.

Ignis laid a hand on Noctis’ shoulder. Noctis practically deflated under the touch, despite the gloves and layers of cloth in the way.

“You can never be too safe,” Ignis said. “It’s best to be careful.”

Noctis sent them both a sidelong glance. “You guys know I can literally summon weapons out of thin air, right? I am _never_ unarmed.”

“Just don’t forget that,” Gladio said, ignoring Noctis’ muttered, _“As if I could ever.”_ He turned his focus to the ball room that stretched out before them. This room would be hosting the main event for the next three nights, and Gladio wanted to commit it all to memory. He wanted to be the first to know if anything was out of place.

That said, considering how dolled up the rest of the castle had become, the ball room was almost empty in comparison. It was still extravagant, no doubt. Banners hung from every wall, and the floor had never shone so brightly. But the main floor—meaning, the vast majority of the room—was empty to make room for the dancing that would take place. It _was_ a ball, after all. On one side of the hall sat a long table that would be laden up with food before the guests arrive. On the other side was an elevated platform on which the musicians would play.

The double doors on the far end of the hall opened up to the front gates. Any visitors would be entering would leave their cars there and enter directly into the ballroom, no detours. The ballroom was practically an island compared to the rest of the castle that way. It even had its own kitchens, separate from the main kitchens. Which was good. Gladio didn’t want any more strangers wandering the castle than was necessary.

The eastern wall faced the side courtyard, so of course it was lined with open windows and doorways so guests could feel the fresh air. A set of stairs were connected to the side of the balcony, leading down to the courtyard and gardens below.

At the northern end of the hall sat a long dining table at which King Regis and the most important visiting royals would be expected to sit as their children all hopelessly vied for Noctis’ hand.

Noctis, of course, was the most dressed up of them all. He tugged at the collar of his suit for what must have been the fifth time. Ignis sent him a disapproving look, but Noctis ignored it.

“I want a mask like you and Ignis,” Noctis said.

“No,” Ignis said without looking up. He had begun inspecting the dining table. A few servants shuffled past him to attend to their own duties.

“Then why did we even make this a masquerade ball?”

“It’s not like the prince of Lucis could be unrecognizable, mask or not,” Gladio reminded him. “You’re the _prince._ And you need people to recognize you. You’re the main attraction.”

Ignis and Noctis shared a look. He had probably reminded them of some conversation they’d had that he wasn’t aware of, but if it involved the word “attraction,” Gladio was happy to ignore it.

“The masks are so you will appear unbiased in the spouse you choose,” Ignis said. Of course, that was the front they were putting up. Noctis wouldn’t be choosing anybody.

“Don’t worry about hiding or sneaking away,” Gladio added. “Worst comes to worst, me and Iggy will cover for you. We’ll be there the whole time.”

That didn’t seem to make Noctis any happier.

“You can’t hang over my shoulder the whole night,” he said.

“I could.” Gladio knew he could. If there was one thing his life as the prince’s Shield had prepared him to do, it was standing over the prince’s shoulder and looking intimidating.

Ignis finally stopped inspecting the craftsmanship of the dining cloth, or whatever he had been doing.

“I believe what Noct means to say,” Ignis said. “Is that this would be a good opportunity for you to socialize.”

It took less than a second for Gladio to put two and two together. His face fell.

“You’ve talked about this,” he said flatly.

Ignis, to his credit, knew when the jig was up.

“Perhaps this would be a good opportunity for you to meet someone,” he said lightly.

“He means you need to get out more,” Noctis clarified. He had begun to slouch.

Ignis didn’t glare, but he did obviously disapprove of Noctis’ bluntness. “Your Highness.”

“What? You said it.”

“I did not.”

Noctis shrugged. “You said he needs to relax.”

“I’m very relaxed,” Gladio cut in.

Now they were both looking at him.

“You just said you were worried about Niflheim attacking us in broad daylight,” Noctis said.

“That’s a legitimate concern. And Iggy agrees with me.”

“Ignis destresses every now and again.”

“I have ways of destressing.”

Training was very destressing. Working up a sweat always helped him relax. He did plenty of that. Plus, he had a pile of books on his bedside table he’d been meaning to get around to. He just hadn’t had the time lately. He was sure at least one of them involved a ball plotline as well. Hopefully it had more swordfights than were planned tonight.

Noctis still looked like he didn’t believe him.

“Gentlemen,” Ignis said.

Gladio and Noctis silently stared at each other, each equally unimpressed with the other. Ignis waited.

It was Noctis who broke first.

“It’s not like you have to _marry_ anyone,” he said, grimacing at his own situation. “Just say hello. Meet somebody.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. “You’re not marrying anyone except the woman of your dreams. Try again.”

Ignis sighed.

“I will be with the prince all night, as will an abundance of Crownsguard and personal guards,” Ignis said, placing a hand on Gladio’s shoulder. “If you wish to stay by the prince’s side, so be it. But you are free to wander if you so choose.”

“At least take the night off or something,” Noctis said. There was concern in his voice that washed away his earlier whining. “You work too hard.”

Gladio let the tension bleed out of his shoulders. Iggy and Noct were always looking out for him. It always came down to that. He couldn’t begrudge them. He was the same way.

“Thanks,” he said honestly. “But don’t worry about me. I know how to take care of myself. It is my duty and pleasure to be by your side, Your Highness.”

Noctis nodded. He said, slowly, “As long as you’re happy.”

He was.

 

 

 

 

“This place is _amazing_ ,” Prompto whispered fervently into Aranea’s ear. “The food table is _huge!_ ”

“Close your mouth,” Aranea told him without looking. Not that he would have known if she had looked. Her silver fox mask did a great job of hiding her face. It was so polished it practically shined. “You’ll let flies in.”

He closed his mouth. That didn’t stop his eyes from wandering, however. Everything was golden and shimmered. That might have just been the lighting, but Prompto had never been in a place so bright. Niflheim had nothing on Lucis.

Prompto fingered his camera. He wanted to take pictures of _everything_. The hall was beautiful, but everyone’s outfits were even more stunning. He guessed they all really wanted to impress the prince. There were women in both slimming and frilly gowns, men in slick tuxes and shiny outfits. Everyone wore a mask, and though some were simple like Prompto’s own, most popped with lavish designs and color. He got dizzy just looking at them all.

He fiddled with the edge of his own mask. It was painted a quiet blue to match the rest of his outfit, and though the small wing-like edges didn’t quite impair his vision, he wanted to toss it anyway. He didn’t want anything to get in the way of his shots.

Aranea nudged him.

“You’re here to document anything suspicious you might see,” she reminded him. “Save the candids for later.”

He smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “Got it!”

Aranea left him by the front doors, just like they had discussed. Prompto adjusted the ear piece in his ear, making sure it was hidden by his hair. He was pretty sure nobody could see it—he certainly hadn’t been able to catch sight of it in the mirror before they left—but better safe than sorry. Aranea told him it was for emergencies only. She had one of her own, as did Biggs and Wedge out in the car. He hoped they didn’t have to use it.

He breathed in. Less thinking, more action. Time for work.

It was hard to tell if the Emperor was here yet. Prompto and Aranea hadn’t been officially ordered to infiltrate Insomnia, so they had no way of knowing when Emperor Iedolas was set to arrive. He figured the Emperor would be sitting at the big table with King Regis, but with so many people in between here and there, it was hard to tell.

He split off to the eastern wall instead, opposite of the way Aranea had gone. He figured he could look out at the gardens and get a lay of the land that way. Just in case.

There was a cluster of people in the center of the room all talking over one another. That was probably where the prince was standing, most likely trapped in place by all the gawkers. He made note to avoid that spot.

The gardens were beautiful from the balcony, but the balcony itself was practically deserted. Probably because the prince was inside, and everyone wanted to make a good impression with him. Prompto didn’t mind the lack of company.

He lifted his camera to his face. The ballroom behind him was the source for most of the lighting in the area, but torches were scattered across the gardens like stars. The soft glow illuminated just enough of the darkness to be pleasant. Even without the camera’s flash, Prompto could make out the small hedge maze down below, the woman’s statue in the center of the hedges, the pond off to his left. The moonlight shined off the water’s surface, glistening. It was beautiful.  

Normally he would have wished for a little more light, but the torches added such a soft glow that Prompto thought the scenery was perfect just the way it was. He snapped a quick photo.

“Are you a photographer?” said a voice to his right.

“Whoa!”

Prompto jumped, fumbling with his camera. He pulled it close to his chest so he didn’t accidentally drop it over the railing. It wasn’t a far fall, but he didn’t want to risk it nonetheless. He turned.

The man next to him was _huge_. Not only tall but _buff_. Prompto only came up to his shoulder, and he was pretty sure his muscles were the size of Prompto’s _head._ Holy shit.

That said, the man was well dressed. His black suit was simpler than what some of the other men were wearing, but it worked for him. It also looked tailored. Nicely tailored. Something about it said _“uniform”_ more than _“dressed to impress,”_ but Prompto was a little impressed anyway. He wore a simple black mask that did little to cover his face. There was a scar over the man’s left eye, and Prompto could see a hint of a tattoo just _barely_ peeking out from under his sleeve. There were stories there that Prompto was instantly curious about. 

But first things came first. Well Dress Guy raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“Oh!” Prompto said. “Yeah, I am! An amateur photographer, I mean.”

“Uh-huh,” Well Dressed Guy said, crossing his arms. He was clearly suspicious. “And what’re you taking pictures of?”

“The garden?”

It came out more like a question than a statement. Prompto winced at his own voice.

“Why?” Well-Dressed-Maybe-Security-Guy asked.

Prompto licked his lips. He suddenly regretted leaving Aranea’s side. He was going to blow their cover in the first five minutes of arriving, and it would be all his fault.

“What’d you say your name was?” Prompto asked, stalling for time.

“Gladiolus Amicitia,” the guy said, like it meant something. It didn’t ring a bell.

Aranea hadn’t said anything about secret names, and he didn’t think Gladiolus was going to snitch to the Emperor anytime soon, but Prompto didn’t offer his own name anyway. Safety first.

Prompto nodded. “Okay, Gladiolus. Is there a rule that I _can’t_ take pictures?”

He sure hoped not. Aranea was going to be super disappointed if so. He would be too.

“There isn’t,” Gladiolus said, a bit begrudgingly.

“Great! Then I’m free to go then?”

 _Please say yes_ , Prompto thought.

Gladiolus did not say yes.

“No,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere until _I_ decide you’re not a threat.”

Prompto wrinkled his nose. “Why you?”

“I’m the prince’s Shield,” Gladiolus said. “It’s my responsibility to investigate anyone suspicious.”

“Shield?” Prompto repeated. “Wait, _I’m_ suspicious? That lady’s wearing a cat on her head!”

She really was. It was a cute cat and Prompto kind of wanted to coo at it, but still. It was a cat. She looked his way when he called her out, but Prompto, embarrassed, pretended to look away. He could feel Gladiolus staring at him incredulously.

“The Amicitia family has always protected the royal family,” Gladiolus said. “We are their Shields. We protect them from everything. Including paparazzi.”

“I’m _not_ paparazzi,” Prompto defended.

Wordlessly, Gladiolus pointed to his camera.

“I like pictures, okay?” Prompto said, a little defensive. He held his camera to his chest protectively. “It’s a hobby. Besides, it’s not like I’m taking pictures of the _prince_.”

Oops. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hoped Gladiolus would ignore it.

He didn’t.

“If you’re not here for the prince, what are you here for?” Gladiolus asked, eyes narrowed. He looked two seconds from throwing Prompto out.

The thing was, Prompto was a bad liar. Like, a _really_ bad liar. So bad Aranea told him he wasn’t allowed to talk at meetings anymore because he gave too much away. He was the _worst_ liar.

So he tried not to lie.

“It’s not every day you’re in a castle, you know,” he said. “A guy like me in a place like this? It’ll probably never happen again. I want to remember it.”

Prompto shifted his weight in Gladiolus’ silence. He could feel himself beginning to sweat, and he desperately hoped he didn’t let Aranea down this early. He wanted to leave Emperor Iedolas behind just as much as her. Niflheim was bad news, and a storm was brewing. He didn’t want to stick around and get stuck in it.

“I promise I’m not paparazzi,” Prompto swore after Gladiolus didn’t say anything. That much was true, and he hoped Gladiolus believed him. “I’m not here for the prince’s hand in marriage, and I promise not to take any pictures of him. This place is beautiful, and it looks like a fun party. So can I stay? Please?”

There was an even longer pause while Gladiolus thought about it. Prompto fiddled with the camera strap around his wrist.

“You can stay,” Gladiolus finally relented. Prompto straightened. “ _If_ you don’t enter the rest of the castle. You have to stay in the ballroom. No exploring.”

“Done,” Prompto said quickly. The Emperor and his guards would probably be stuck in the ballroom anyway, entertaining King Regis and the other world leaders. Prompto didn’t need to go anywhere else.

“And you stay by me the rest of the night.”

“D—What?”

Prompt wrinkled his nose. Gladiolus looked at him, unwavering.

“If you’re really not a reporter, then you can’t stay in the paparazzi section with the others,” Gladiolus said, gesturing to somewhere across the hall Prompto couldn’t see. “But I’m not leaving you to wander around unsupervised. You stay with me or you leave.”

Prompto hesitated. He had promised not to take pictures of the prince, but if he tried to take pictures of Niflheim royals or retainers, that would probably be even more suspicious. Gladiolus would probably catch on if he started staring at the Emperor for too long. But what choice did he have?

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Prompto asked, searching for a way out.

“Nope,” said Gladiolus. He waited.

There wasn’t much else Prompto could do that wouldn’t get guards called on him immediately. He sighed.

“Done,” he said again. Before Gladiolus could add any other stipulations, he held out his hand. “Deal?”

Surprisingly, Gladiolus took it. Prompto meant it to be friendly, but the way Gladiolus’ hand practically engulfed his own was still a little intimidating. That had possibly been the point. After a moment, though, the warmth of Gladiolus’ palm sank into Prompto’s skin, and he shivered. He dropped Gladiolus’ hand.

Prompto had no idea how he was going to get out of this one, but he decided to make the best of it. He knew Aranea would probably come through somehow anyway.

So he said, “If we’re going to be best buddies for the rest of the night, we should probably get to know each other a little better, huh, Gladiolus?”

“Just Gladio is fine,” was the surprising response he got. Then, “Do you want to tell me who _you_ are?”

 _“You”_ sounded a lot like _“You incredibly suspicious nobody.”_ Prompto winced.

“It’s a masquerade ball,” he said, deflecting. He waved a hand in front of his own mask. “What’s the point if there’s not a bit a mystery?”

Somewhat surprisingly, Gladio cracked a smile. “You sound like someone else I know.”

Then his expression turned stern, like he hadn’t mean to say that. Prompto jumped at the opening.

“Not anybody bad, I hope,” he said.

Gladio slowly shook his head. “No. Not bad at all.”

Prompto grinned. He was going to win Gladio over before the night was out, one way or another. Partly because he had to, for the sake of the mission. But part of Prompto also genuinely wanted to as well. He didn’t like the idea of anyone thinking he was a evil, mostly because Prompto didn’t think of himself that way. And Gladio was just trying to do his job. He didn’t seem like a bad guy either.

Plus, having to stay by Gladio the whole night wasn’t the worst thing to happen. It wasn’t like Gladio was bad to look at.

Aranea had given him the ear piece for emergencies, but Prompto wasn’t sure this qualified as an emergency just yet. He could handle it. Besides, it wasn’t like he could start talking to open air. Gladio would hear.

“So, Gladio,” he said, propping his elbows up on the railing and turning so he could look into the ball room. The music had picked up, and the crowd had thinned slightly as dancing couples had taken to the floor. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I thought you wanted to take pictures?” Gladio asked skeptically.

Prompto shrugged. “Yeah, but I have three days for that. I want to get to know you first.”

It took a moment for Gladio to answer. He was probably weighing how smart giving information away to a stranger was. Prompto, meanwhile, fiddled with his camera settings. His picture of the garden had come out slightly too dark. He snapped another photo. This time it was much better.

Gladio, having watched this, had apparently deemed him a non-threat because he said, “You have my name. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

Prompto smiled. “That’s a fair trade. Let’s see…” He looked up at the night sky. He couldn’t see any stars because of the city lights, but it was a nice sight anyway. “I turned twenty a few months ago.” Presumably twenty, at least. He didn’t know his real birthday. “My hobby is photography. My favorite animal is a chocobo. I’ve never actually ridden one, but I’ve always wanted to.”

It felt a little like an introduction someone would give at the start of the school year. If Prompto had ever been to school, that is.

“A chocobo?” Gladio repeated.

Prompto nodded.

“Yeah! They’re super cute and soft and…” There was a snort. “Are you laughing at me?”

Gladio was. He totally was. It was like his whole face had morphed; when he smiled, his face lit up, and there was no disguising his low chuckle for anything other than what it was.

“I can’t believe this,” Prompto said dramatically. “Here I am, putting myself on the line for you, and you scorn me like this! I can’t believe it. See if I let you take me home now after _this_ betrayal.”

He meant it as a joke, something silly and overdramatic, but Gladio immediately fixed him with a look that froze Prompto in place.

“I didn’t know that option was on the table,” he said, his voice low. His eyes were half-lidded, and Prompto hadn’t realized how close they were until now. His chest was mere inches from Prompto’s arm. It had suddenly grown three degrees warmer.

“Well.” Prompto’s mouth had grown dry. He struggled to take a breath and shake it off. “What about you?”

“Me?” Gladio repeated. Had he gotten closer? Prompto wasn’t sure.

Focus. He needed to focus. Aranea was depending on him. He was depending on himself too.

The mission. He needed to pay attention.

“What’s your favorite food?” he blurted.

A hundred dirty responses suddenly popped into his head, and Prompto instantly wanted to stick his head in the punch bowl and never come up for air.

But instead of saying any of those, Gladio straightened—Prompto hadn’t even realized he had leaned down—and answered with such conviction that he could be nothing but honest.

“Cup Noodles,” Gladio said.

Prompto blinked. The tension had lifted, and a cool breeze swept the rest of his embarrassment away. “Seriously?”

Gladio crossed his arms. He looked almost affronted.  “What’s wrong with Cup Noodles?”

“Don’t you work for the prince?” Prompto asked. “Do they not pay you?”

Gladio scowled. Now he was definitely offended. “Do I _look_ like I don’t eat enough?”

He certainly didn’t. Prompto ducked his head.

“Sorry!” he said. “I was just surprised! I figured a fancy guy like you would eat—I don’t know, Catoblepas meat every meal or something.”

Gladio looked down at him. “That’s incredibly unrealistic. And wasteful.”

Prompto held his hands up in an “I give up!” motion. “It’s not like I would know! Sorry.”

“Cup Noodles are incredibly filling and delicious,” Gladio told him informatively. “They’re the best meal there is.”

Prompto stifled a laugh. He didn’t do a very good job of it, though, considering the look Gladio gave him.

He worried that he had suddenly made things weird and that he would have to somehow ditch Gladio after all. A beat passed before Gladio spoke again.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“What’s your favorite food?” Gladio clarified.

Prompto hummed and tilted his head back, thinking. “That’s a tough one. I’m a fan of a lot of foods.” Especially since nobody he knew could cook, himself included. “Anything spicy is usually at the top of the list, though.”

In the ball room, the music switched to something lighter and faster. Prompto tapped his foot to the beat. He didn’t recognize the tune.

“Spicy?” Gladio said. “You don’t look you could eat a pepper without crying.”

“Hey!” Prompto yelped. Then he caught sight of Glado’s teasing face and relaxed. He blew a lock of hair that had fallen in front of his mask out of the way. “I guess appearances really are deceiving, huh? For both of us.”

“I guess so,” Gladio said. He was smiling again. He looked relaxed, and Prompto certainly wasn’t as tense as he had been. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Things were really starting to look up.

They made small talk for a while. They talked a little bit more about food, and Prompto learned how deep Gladio’s love for Cup Noodles ran. The answer: truly deep. It was a weird quirk in an otherwise seemingly normal man, but Prompto liked it.

“I think you might like Cup Noodles a bit too much, big guy,” Prompto said after listening to Gladio list off Cup Noodles’ top three best qualities: eggs, shrimp, and meat. He couldn’t keep his grin off his face.

“There’s no such a thing as too much with Cup Noodles,” Gladio said earnestly. Prompto laughed.

They kept switching topics at the drop of a hat. Prompto confessed he wore contacts after Gladio caught him rubbing at his eye one too many times. He learned a little about Gladio’s training regimen, which sounded way harder than anything Prompto had attempted for himself. He said as much, and that got them started on how many miles each of them ran a day. The conversation about cardio lasted a while until someone inside loudly dropped a plate and Prompto jumped what felt like six feet off the ground in surprise. Gladio teased him mercilessly.

He learned Gladio preferred to be shirtless more than he liked dressing up, which made Prompto laugh again. And then get a little red-faced at the mental image, which he had to wave off as just being too warm. Gladio also admitted to reading often. He claimed he read mostly nonfiction, but something about that didn’t ring completely true. He couldn’t get Gladio to admit any more details, however. Prompto swore he’d get Gladio to admit more by the time they parted ways. It was probably something really embarrassing and therefore hilarious.

The ball room music had faded into something much slower by the time Prompto got Gladio to admit he had a sister.

“Iris,” Prompto repeated. He was completely leaning on the railing by this point, his own body and Gladio’s angled toward each other. “That’s a good name.”

Gladio eyed him. “You’re not hitting on her.”

“No way!” Prompto vehemently shook his head. “That’s your sister, dude. I don’t even know her. Plus, didn’t you just say she was fifteen? That’s creepy.”

Gladio relaxed, placated.

“Besides, I have a sister too,” Prompto said. “Basically.”

“Basically?”

Oops.

Prompto had gotten _too_ relaxed. He hadn’t meant to mention Aranea. But as long as he didn’t use names or specifics, he figured it was probably okay.

“She’s not my sister by blood or anything,” he explained. “But we grew up together. She’s older than me by a couple years, but we lived together as kids and looked after each other. So she’s basically my sister, I guess.”

He didn’t usually put it into words like that. Aranea, Biggs, Wedge—Prompto thought of them all like family. They had been together for years, after all. He just didn’t usually assign terms to stuff like that.

“You’re adopted?” Gladio asked.

Prompto hesitated, then shook his head.

“Not really?” he said. “I mean, no adults took us in or anything. I guess we adopted each other.”

This stuff was getting a little personal. Prompto shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked about this stuff with anyone, if ever.

“So you grew up alone,” Gladio said. It was impossible to tell how he felt about this new information.

“Not alone,” Prompto corrected. “I had—my sister. And some others.”

If Gladio noticed the way he avoided saying Aranea’s name, he didn’t call him on it. Prompto was thankful.

Another thought was on the tip of his tongue, but Prompto nearly held it in. Then he caught sight of Gladio’s thoughtful face.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound_ , he thought.

“Honestly, I feel a little out of place here,” Prompto admitted. He gestured to himself and then to the much more fashionable people inside. “Unlike you, I didn’t grow up with all this fancy stuff.”

“It’s not about being used to it or not,” Gladio said. “If you act like you fit in, you will. Just pretend you belong, and you’ll be fine.”

Prompto shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. I’m not very good at that pretending stuff.”

Gladio snorted. “I can see that.”

“Rude.”

The music switched again. This time, Prompto couldn’t keep himself from bouncing in place.

“Oh! I love this song!” It was one of the few he’d recognized all evening. The piano in it sounded almost playful. He didn’t know the song’s name, but he liked it. He could see the dancers in the ball room speed up in time with the music.

“I can tell,” Gladio said. He pushed himself off the railing and held out his hand. “Want to dance, Blue?”

That made him pause.

“Blue?” Prompto said, faltering in surprise. He was coming down from a jump as he said it and stumbled as he stuck the landing wrong, but Gladio’s hand on his shoulder steadied him.

Gladio shrugged, his hand lingering. “You wouldn’t give me your name, so I had to come up with one of my own.”

Blue. Because of Prompto’s outfit, probably. It wasn’t his fault the cheapest outfits at the store had only been in one color. Looking good was expensive, and he was pretty sure the guards wouldn’t have liked him showing up in his body armor. He thought the blue was nice anyway. It wasn’t like Gladio, who wore all black, had any room to comment.

“You get an F for creativity,” Prompto said. “But points for simplicity.”

“Thanks,” Gladio said flatly. He held out his hand again. “Do you want to dance or not?”

Prompto thought about it. They had been on the balcony long enough. If they went inside, Prompto could maybe catch a glimpse of the Emperor or one of his goons.

Plus, he really did want to dance.

“Okay,” he agreed, taking Gladio’s hand. “But I’m warning you, I have two left feet.”

“Not surprising.”

Gladio, as it turned out, was a decent dancer. The other guests gave them some space as they shuffled their way through the crowd, probably because of Gladio’s size. It worked well enough since they needed that space to otherwise keep Gladio from bumping into everyone in a five-foot radius. Not that Prompto could make fun of him. He was probably going to knock somebody over before the night was through.

“You’ve taken lessons?” Prompto guessed as Gladio took the lead. It wasn’t like he would have known what to do if he’d been asked. He’d never done fancy dancing before. He followed Gladio’s lead as best he could.

“Had to,” Gladio said simply. “Stop looking at your feet.”

Prompto quickly looked up. “Sorry!”

“Relax. Just do what I do.”

“Easier said than done,” Prompto said. He made it three steps before he stepped on Gladio’s foot and looked down again.

Gladio shook his head. “Don’t look down.”

Prompto looked up again, albeit reluctantly. “But—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Gladio told him. “Just dance.”

So they danced. Slowly. Clumsily, on Prompto’s part. He stepped on Gladio’s feet no less than seven times during the whole routine, and Gladio chastised him every time he looked down. But by the end of the song, Prompto thought he was finally getting the hang of it. At least, he didn’t step on Gladio’s foot an eighth time. He probably still looked like a dork. But he was having fun.

He forgot to look for the Emperor until the song was nearly finished. Prompto craned his neck as they turned in time to the beat. With so many people and no way to get a closer look, however, it was hard to tell if the Emperor had even shown up yet. Prompto had probably missed the announcement while he’d been outside.

He _thought_ the Emperor was there, but he wasn’t sure. And it wasn’t like he could catch the finer details of what the Emperor was doing without a better vantage point.

Prompto didn’t have a clock, but he was willing to bet that he had been there for the better part of two hours already. Admittedly, he had maybe been slacking a little within that time. At least he had an excuse. A very large and handsome man had told him he wasn’t allowed to leave his side all night. What was Prompto supposed to say to that?

“Get lost,” probably. Aranea would have.

Admittedly, he felt kind of bad about it. He _was_ slacking, and he _did_ want to catch the Emperor being evil so he could get the hell out of Niflheim without worrying about being suspected by everyone he tried to work under for the rest of his life. But there wasn’t a lot he could do without drawing a lot of attention to himself. And he didn’t hate the attention Gladio was giving him, even if it was just because he was the suspicious photographer.

Later on, when he met up with Aranea again, he knew he would feel incredibly guilty. But right now he was having fun.

Besides, he thought. There were two more nights after this one. The odds of the Emperor ordering an attack on night one were pretty slim.

The moment their dance came to halt, Prompto raised his camera and took a picture. Gladio blinked and looked down at him, his expression considerably softer than it had been the first time he’d seen Prompto take a picture.

“What was that for?” Gladio asked.

Prompto looked at the screen. There was Gladio from mere moments before, slightly surprised but shining bright under the lights of the ball room. He was handsome. Prompto didn’t have a good excuse.

“Because I wanted to,” he said.

Gladio looked at him. “I thought you said you wanted pictures of the scenery?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I take pictures of anything that looks good.”

Prompto wanted to undo the last five seconds, or at the very least he wanted to slap tape over his mouth and never speak again. He bit his tongue and paled, looking away. He was saved from hearing Gladio’s response when Aranea’s voce suddenly rang loud and clear in his ear.

 _“The Emperor left,”_ she said. _“It’s late. Time to head back.”_

He didn’t know where she was, but he knew where she would be. Prompto stepped back, out of Gladio’s reach.

“Thanks for the dance,” he said quickly. He ran into somebody without looking, and he stumbled out of the way. “I have to go.”

“Wait—“

Prompto did not wait. He ducked between the dancing couples and gossiping teens and practically ran out of the palace.

Aranea caught him by the arm as he ran down the front steps. He didn’t know if Gladio was following or not. He wasn’t sure which option was better.

“Slow down,” she said. “You’re drawing attention to yourself.”

“Sorry!” he gasped. “I just—Sorry!”

She sent him a look but didn’t say anything else as she led him to where the car was waiting. An attendant opened the door for them, nodding politely at them like Prompto was somebody worth acknowledging. Aranea slid in. Prompto ducked his head and climbed after her.

Biggs and Wedge were sitting in the front seats with Wedge at the wheel. They were holding a whispered conversation that _sounded_ important, but Prompto was mostly sure they were admiring how well the other cars in the parking lot were made.

“Where’d the Emperor go?” Prompto asked as soon as the door shut, wanting nothing more than to distract himself.

“Who knows?” Aranea said. “Probably said he was tired from the trip. Or went off to discuss politics with the other queens and kings. Either way, he left the ball room and went further into the castle.”

“Couldn’t we just follow him?”

“And risk getting caught?” Aranea said. “This place is practically impenetrable right now. I’m not risking us that early. Besides, we both know how dramatic the Emperor can be. He wants an audience. He won’t be pulling anything behind closed doors at this point.”

Prompto nodded. That made sense.

He sank into his seat and looked through the window, watching the scenery pass by.

“Did you take any good pictures?” Aranea asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Prompto immediately thought about Gladio.

“I don’t expect you to have anything solid yet, but you might have caught something relevant for later,” she continued. “Or at least something funny. Anything good?”

“Uh,” he said.

Aranea stared at him. He knew _she_ knew something was up. There was no hiding it, but he wanted to anyway.

“Let me see your camera,” she said. It wasn’t really a question.

Feeling a little too warm, Prompto handed it over. She looked at the menu screen.

“You only took three photos the whole night?” Aranea asked incredulously. “That’s not like you.”

Prompto squirmed in his seat as she flipped through the pictures. He knew the moment she got to Gladio’s photo. The way she paused said it all.

“Who the hell is this guy?” she asked. When Prompto didn’t answer immediately, she looked up. She must have figured it out immediately, because then she looked back down at the photo and drawled, “Handsome guy. And that scar on his face. I never thought you went for the rugged types.”

“Rugged types?” Biggs repeated from the front, finally chiming in. “Prompto got a crush?”

“No!” Prompto denied.

Wedge practically turned around in his seat to look at him despite the fact he was the one driving. “Anyone we should be worried about?”

“Eyes on the road,” Biggs reminded him.

“Right.”

They turned back around. Prompto buried his face in his hands. Aranea waved the camera.

“Were you seriously distracted all night because of some guy?” she asked. Her eyebrow was doing that thing it did when she was annoyed. “What happened to doing your job?”

“Not my fault!” Prompto said. He had started to babble. “I _was_ doing my job, but then Gladio came over all like, ‘What are you doing?’ because I looked suspicious, I guess, which I totally didn’t. I told him I wasn’t paparazzi, and then he said the only way I could stay was if I was with him the whole night because he was the prince’s bodyguard and he wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to kill anyone or take embarrassing photos or—“

“Hold up,” Biggs said. “Did you say you were with the prince’s bodyguard?”

“Yes,” Prompto said. Then he realized how that sounded. “I wasn’t breaking cover, I swear! He didn’t know anything. He just thought I was an amateur photographer.”

“An amateur photographer he wanted to spend the evening with,” Wedge said flatly. He looked at Prompto in the rearview mirror.

Aranea crossed her legs. “And he seriously didn’t know anything?”

“I promise he didn’t,” Prompto swore. “He just didn’t like the idea of me taking pictures of the prince without permission. Or too many of the castle grounds. So, you know. There’s that.”

Aranea sighed. “So you’ve been compromised.”

“No,” Prompto said. “I can still do this.”

A moment passed as she considered this. He put on his best pleading face.

“If you’re sure,” she said. “But you tell me the moment you’re _really_ compromised. I don’t want any big risks here.” As though what they were doing wasn’t risky enough.

“I will. I’ll even avoid him tomorrow, just to be safe.” And he would, even though the thought of avoiding Gladio made his stomach sink.

Then he remembered the stupid words he had blurted before basically running away, and suddenly the idea of avoidance seemed much better.

Aranea nodded. Biggs cracked his knuckles.

“We’re halfway back to the hotel,” he said.

Prompto sighed. He wanted a nice, long shower and to forget about the whole thing.

 

 

 

 

“Did you have a good time?” Noctis asked, teasing, once they finally made it back to his room. There had still been a few guests milling around when they’d left, but they weren’t Gladio’s problem now. It was late enough that it was early morning again, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. His thoughts had been a whirlwind all evening.

“Did you?” he countered.

The obvious answer to that question was no, but for once Noctis didn’t let it get to him.

“Oh, no.” Noctis shook his head and tossed his jacket off to the side. Ignis immediately went to hang it up properly. “You’re not getting out of this that easily. Ignis and I both saw you dancing with that guy, Mister I-Don’t-Need-To-Socialize.”

Ignis loosened his tie. “And I do believe you were seen talking to the same man for quite some time outside. The open night air is quite romantic, you know.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You know, I thought we were looking for a spouse for me,” Noctis said. “But if you wanted to do that instead, the floor is all yours.”

“I’m not marrying anybody,” Gladio grumbled. “And you’re not marrying anybody you don’t want to, so quit your complaining.”

Noctis paused. “What’s up?”

Gladio knew that tone. It was Noctis’ “Why are you being an asshole?” tone. He rolled his eyes a second time.

Ignis was the one who answered.

“I believe our friend is grumpy because that same young man was seen leaving in a hurry this evening.” At Gladio’s look, Ignis elaborated. “He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Noctis frowned.

“Is he coming back?” he asked.

Gladio shrugged. “Who knows.”

“Do you _want_ him to come back?”

Maybe. Definitely.

Gladio waved them both off. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“I’m sure he will return tomorrow evening,” Ignis assured him, dropping the jokes for the moment.

Gladio ignored them both and left the room. He passed Lady Lunafreya and her guard slash lover boy Nyx on the way out. He nodded respectfully and let them pass before heading to his own bedroom.

 

 

 

 

Prompto very much did not forget about the whole thing.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the evening before. He’d had a _good_ time. One of the best times he’d had in a while, actually, until he’d blown it all with his big mouth. He hadn’t noticed Gladio’s reaction, too caught up in his own head to pay attention, but he couldn’t stop imagining the possibilities anyway. Had Gladio been disgusted? Charmed? Prompto didn’t think he was actually charismatic enough to “charm” anyone, but a guy could dream. Had Prompto overreacted? The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it.

“You alright?” Aranea asked more than once. Biggs and Wedge were always in the periphery, waiting for an answer. Prompto assured them that he was fine. Multiple times.

By the time they were on their way to the castle for the second night in a row, Prompto was a bundle of nerves. He wanted to see Gladio again, as terribly as seeing him again could go. Gladio had been nice. He’d been fun. He genuinely loved his sister and his job. Prompto could tell as much from the way he talked. He wanted to meet again.

But meeting again was a terrible idea. Prompto was trying to secure a better life for himself and his family, and goofing off wasn’t part of the plan.

The same cycle of thoughts twisted in his head all day. His head told him to focus while his heart couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he apologized for the night before.

He shook his head and tried to brush it off. It didn’t work.

The car bounced over a pothole as they drove to the castle. They were already wearing their masks even though they weren’t there yet. It just felt safer to do so. Aranea sighed heavily and held out her hand.

“Look, just give me the camera,” she said. “Then you can go off and do whatever.”

Prompto straightened. He almost couldn’t believe his own ears.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Aranea said, her lips twitching upward, almost betraying her stern expression. “Give it here.”

She took the camera from him without waiting for a response, and though it was uncomfortable to be parted from the most precious object he owned, Prompto easily squashed that discomfort with his own excitement. He was going to be at the ball! _Without_ having to worry about looking suspicious as hell and getting thrown out! It was more than he thought he would get. He hadn’t explored anything yesterday, nor tasted any of the delicious food that had been laid out for the guests. He could do all of that now.

And maybe, _maybe_ , he would get to see Gladio again. Maybe they would talk and laugh and get to know each other and—

And he probably wouldn’t want to date anyone from Niflheim anyway, defector or not.

With that thought, Prompto was promptly brought back to reality.

“What about you?” he asked. “What about the plan?”

“I’ll carry it out by myself,” Aranea replied. She turned the camera over in her hands, inspecting the lens and settings. “There’s no need for both of us. Go have fun being a teenager in love.”

Prompto flushed. He didn’t have to look in a mirror to know how red he had become.

“I’m not a teenager!” he protested, quickly remembering to add, “And I’m not in love!”

“Infatuated,” Aranea corrected, waving him off. “Same deal. Go have your fun. Double teaming the Emperor is more suspicious than a singular agent anyway. I got pretty close yesterday, so we’ll stick with what we know. Just remember to listen when I call you.”

It was tempting, but Prompto hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Aranea glanced at him. “When am I ever not sure?”

She had a point. He darted across the seats for a quick hug in thanks, ignoring her grumbled protests since he knew if she could easily shove him off, and hopped out of the car. Then he turned heel and grabbed the slighter shittier but not terrible extra camera he kept tucked under the seats. It was his emergency camera he kept around in case anything happened to the good one. He figured this counted as an emergency. He practically skipped up the steps to the palace.

Of course, all that excitement drained out of him once he saw the crowd inside. He knew Aranea was slowly climbing the steps behind him, but he still froze. What if he was thinking about it too much? What if he’d had a good time and Gladio thought he was just some guy? What if he didn’t see Gladio at all and Prompto ended up alone in the corner all night, _without_ his good camera—

Aranea poked him in the back as she walked by. She didn’t look at him, didn’t stop moving, but it brought him back to reality. She always knew when he was overthinking things.

 _Keep moving_ , he told himself. Like Aranea always said, you didn’t get anywhere by standing still. If Gladio didn’t want to see him again, then he’d figure out what to do later. One step at a time.

He walked into the crowd.

 

 

 

 

“Are you looking for him?” Noctis asked.

“No,” Gladio said, tearing his eyes away from the crowd. He stood tall and stiff, as intimidating as the prince’s Shield should be. A passing guest caught his eye and quickly turned away.

Even with Gladio standing there, there were still a dozen or so other guests in the periphery working up the courage to approach the prince. It would have been much worse without Gladio at Noctis’ side. He made a note to give Noctis a bit more credit. He wasn’t sure he could put up with this many people wanting his attention all the time.

Noctis smirked. “I didn’t even say who.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s all you and Ignis will talk about.”

“What can I say? We’re concerned with your well-being.”

“False.”

Noctis snorted. Suddenly, his eyes widened. He pointed over Gladio’s shoulder. “Hey, is that him?”

Gladio turned to look. Noctis almost immediately began laughing, so Gladio punched in in the arm as he turned back. He swallowed his embarrassment.

“Hey.” Noctis rubbed at his sore arm. “We’re in public. You can’t hit the crown prince.”

“I’m not hitting a prince,” Gladio retorted. “I’m hitting a brat.”

“Gentlemen.”

Ignis had arrived. Finally.

He inclined his head towards Gladio and Noctis both. “I hope you are behaving yourselves.”

The look on his face said he knew they hadn’t. Noctis looked away, sheepish, and Gladio declined to answer. Now that Ignis had come to watch Noctis and keep the overeager vultures at bay, Gladio had half a mind to take a walk. He felt agitated for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with Noctis’ ribbing.

Ignis caught his eye. “I believe your mystery man is loitering around the dessert table. If you were at all curious.”

There was a sly smile playing at his lips. Gladio didn’t believe him for a second.

He scowled and crossed his arms. “I expected this from Noct but not from you too.”

“I assure you that I’m not joking,” Ignis said. “With how distracted you were this morning, I asked a few discreet caterers to keep an eye out, just in case. I believe he recently arrived.”

“Wait.” Gladio stood a little straighter. “Blue’s really here?”

Ignis nodded.“Unless my sources have mistaken him for another young man with a camera and a winged mask, then yes.”

With a description like that, Gladio doubted anyone was mistaken. Besides, Ignis was almost never wrong.

Which meant Blue really had come back.

An elation Gladio hadn’t expected bubbled up under his skin. He hadn’t been swooning all day like some lovesick kid, but he had been feeling frustrated ever since Blue had suddenly run out the night before. The news that he’d come back allowed the tension to bleed out of his shoulders. 

Which was stupid. Gladio didn’t even know his name. They had spent a handful of hours together talking nonsense. His first priority was the Lucis Caelum family, first and foremost. Everything else—silly amateur photographers included—was secondary.

That being said…

“I believe I could relieve you of the prince for a few hours,” Ignis said.

Gladio didn’t have to worry about security, not really. There were both obvious and incognito Crownsguard agents scattered throughout the crowd. King Regis cared about his son’s safety more than anything else in the world. Whether or not Gladio was by his side tonight didn’t particularly matter.

Still, he didn’t want to abandon his duty so easily. He looked to the prince.

Noctis frowned, obviously aware of the hoard that would swarm once Gladio left his side. Still, he said, “Didn’t I say you couldn’t stand over my shoulder the whole night? Go do your thing.”

Gladio knocked their arms together, much more playfully than he had had earlier.

“You’re pretty okay,” he said. “For a brat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Noctis shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it back at Ignis’ insistent look. “Get out of here already.”

Gladio did. Gladly.

He half expected Blue to be gone by the time he shuffled his way across the ballroom, but there he was, stuffing a bread roll into his mouth as Gladio approached. He was trying to be discreet about it and failing. Gladio felt the urge to chuckle at the sight. He stepped close, casting his shadow across Blue’s feet.

“Didn’t I say you had to stay by my side?” he said.

Blue turned. His eyes widened as he saw Gladio, but part of Gladio thought he looked relieved. At least, he hoped so. Gladio knew he was relieved, anyway.

 _“Hmph!”_ Blue’s voice was muffled from all the food in his mouth. Gladio watched him swallow and try again. “Hey! You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here,” Gladio said. “I work here.”

“Oh, yeah.” Blue smiled sheepishly. “Right.”

Gladio caught sight of the camera hanging from the strap on his wrist. This camera looked different than the one Blue had previously. Older. A little clunkier. He wondered what happened to the other camera, the one he’d taken Gladio’s photo with.

Blue’s words rang in his head. _“I take pictures of anything that looks good.”_

If that wasn’t blatant flirting, Gladio didn’t know what was. They had been dancing around each other all yesterday, both figuratively and then literally. Gladio had been fairly interested, and he thought Blue was as well.

But then Blue had scrambled to escape as soon has he’d gotten to obvious, and now that Gladio had found him again, he didn’t mention anything about yesterday. But he was happy to see Gladio.

Okay, Gladio decided. That was fine. If Blue wanted to go slow, he could go slow. Gladio was a patient man.

He gestured to the camera. “Wasn’t your other camera nicer?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Blue held up the camera. “My sister has the better one right now. I’m letting her borrow it.”

A few more people wandered over to get food, and Gladio guided Blue out of their way. He used the excuse to let his hand linger on Blue’s lower back longer than he politely should have.

“She’s an amateur photographer like yourself?” he asked.

Blue shook his head. He still had his plate in hand, and he popped a cookie into his mouth. “Not usually. She just had something to do tonight.”

“A woman on a mission then,” Gladio said.

Blue choked. He slapped his hand over his mouth, coughing as Gladio quickly took his plate away and swiped a flute of something from a passing waiter. Blue drank it greedily, face red.

“Are you alright?” Gladio asked, hovering beside him with concern. A few guests were eying them, obviously having heard his coughs, but Blue didn’t seem bad enough off to call a doctor.

“I’m good!” Blue rasped. “Just great.” He coughed a few more times and smacked his chest. “Sorry about that. I, uh, swallowed wrong.”

“I can see that.”

He eyed Blue for a moment longer until he decided the photographer wasn’t going to fall over dead. Only then did he marginally relax.

“Speaking of pictures, though,” Blue said, holding up his camera. “Want to take some pictures with me?”

The corner of Gladio’s mouth twitched into a smile. He was a patient man, but he practically lived with Noctis and Ignis. He wasn’t above teasing.

“Didn’t you get one yesterday?” Gladio said.

The mask covered most of Blue’s cheeks, but it was impossible to miss how the tips of his ears turned even redder than before. Blue sputtered.

“That—I was—“

Cute. He was cute.

“I wasn’t trying to—“

Gladio took pity.

“Relax,” he said. “You want to take pictures? Let’s take some.”

Blue ran a hand through his hair and breathed. He had mostly pulled it together when he opened his mouth again.

“You sure?” Blue asked. He flashed Gladio some teeth. “Yesterday you didn’t seem too keen on me and my buddy here.” He waved the camera.

Gladio shrugged.

“People change,” he said.

“In a day?”

“Maybe.”

Blue’s eyes scanned Gladio’s face. He smiled. “Okay. Let’s take some pictures.”

They were in a mostly secluded corner, but they moved even farther out of the way until they were mostly hidden behind a pillar. So as to not disturb the other guests, of course. Blue leaned in close and extended his arm.

“Say cheese!”

The flash wasn’t on, but the click of the camera was audible. Blue was grinning as flipped the camera back around.

“Not bad.” He flashed Gladio the screen. “What do you think?”

It was a good picture. They were both leaned in close and smiling at the camera. Gladio let his gaze trail from the camera up Blue’s arm and then to his face. Their corner was dim and quiet. Gladio wanted more. He leaned down until his lips brushed Blue’s ear.

“Not bad,” he whispered. “Anything else catch your eye?” He kept his wording intentionally vague.

He said he could wait, and he could. He was just putting the option out there. The rest was up to Blue.

Blue’s breath caught. He looked up at Gladio, his eyes shining through the mask. Gladio sucked in a breath and held it.

Blue turned his head. His nose brushed Gladio’s cheek. They stared at each other, and the world faded away.

It was impossible to tell who leaned in first, but Gladio didn’t care. Their lips brushed lightly, and there was a brief pause filled with too much space as Blue pulled immediately away. His eyes flickered across Gladio’s face, then to his mouth. Blue’s eyes fell shut. Gladio leaned back in.

He parted his lips slightly, testing the waters. His lips practically glided over Blue’s. His cupped Blue’s neck, dragging this thumb softly against his warm skin. Blue gasped into the kiss, and Gladio took the opportunity to catch Blue’s chapped lip between his teeth. Then he drew back, wary of scaring Blue away like he had yesterday, but he gently pecked Blue’s mouth one last time before opening his eyes. Blue was staring right back at him. His fingers were fisted in the material right over Gladio’s heart.

Then, as though he realized what he was doing, Blue let go and ran his hand over Gladio’s shirt in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. It didn’t do much. Gladio didn’t care.

“Hey,” Gladio said, his voice raw. He hadn’t felt this exposed in a long time.

Blue swallowed, and Glado watched the way his throat bobbed with the movement. “Hey.”

Gladio licked his lips.

“I don’t normally do things like this,” he said.

Unless living vicariously through his novels meant anything. He was pretty sure it didn’t.

Blue teased his lower lip with his teeth. He was breathing slightly heavier than normal. They hadn’t been kissing for long. At least Gladio wasn’t the only one who felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Me either.”

“I want to get to know you better,” Gladio said. “But I want to get to know _you_.”

His thumb brushed the edge of Blue’s mask, the shield Blue was hiding behind, as he emphasized _you_. The way Blue took half a step back didn’t escape his attention. Despite that, he didn’t lift his hand away from Blue’s cheek. He waited for an answer.

Blue placed his palm over Gladio’s hand. His fingers found a home in the spaces between Gladio’s.

“Yeah,” Blue said, his voice shaking slightly. “Me too.”

The pressure on Gladio’s hand increased slightly

“But give me another day,” Blue said. The corner of his mouth brushed Gladio’s wrist. “One more day. To be like this.”

One more day to hide. Until the ball was over and the masks came off.

Gladio’s thumb brushed Blue’s mask one last time. Then he pulled back and straightened. Blue let him go.

“Okay,” Gladio said, leaning against the cool stone of the pillar. “I can do that.”

The silence stretched between them as they gazed at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Gladio couldn’t vouch for Blue, but his own heart was beating a mile a minute. It felt like he’d been training for hours or like he was at the end of a long sprint. He wanted to sit next to Blue and talk for days. He wanted to get to know every inch of him.

It had been a long time since Gladio had felt like this. He wasn’t sure he ever had. He wondered if this was how Noctis and Ignis or even Lunafreya felt all the time. He didn’t know how they could stand it.

“So,” Blue said, rocking back on his heels and startling Gladio by speaking up first. “Didn’t you mention that you were banned from the kitchens once? What’s up with that?”

A breathless laugh left Gladio’s chest. “I thought you didn’t want to admit any deep, dark secrets yet?”

“Well, yeah,” Blue agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t _talk_.” He gasped dramatically. “Wait, are you saying your cooking history is a deep, dark secret?”

Gladio grinned, full and light and free.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he joked.

Blue placed a hand over his heart in mock surprise. “My! And I thought you were a gentleman!”

“Who says I’m not?”

Blue threw his head back and laughed. It was much too formal an event to sink to the floor and relax like Gladio wanted to, and his training kept him from needlessly dragging Blue somewhere else and abandoning his post, so he made the most of leaning against the pillar. There were still people milling about, chattering in his periphery, but he wasn’t paying attention to that. He was paying attention to Blue.

“Alright, seriously.” Blue looked up at him. “Now you’ve _got_ to tell me this one.”

“I do, do I?”

“Yes!”

In the end, Gladio did. It was a long, embarrassing story, and Iris still shamed him occasionally with it. He had been twelve. But Gladio was old enough for it to no longer matter, and it made Blue laugh. _That_ was what mattered.

They talked. On and on and on, they talked. Blue didn’t have his own embarrassing kitchen stories, but he did have the time he got caught between two fence posts as a child and had to be pulled out. That one sounded like a story a parent would tell their kid to keep them from exploring too much, and Gladio almost didn’t believe it if not for the sincerity with which Blue told the tale. Without revealing anyone’s name, Blue talked about his family—about his sister who once killed a Catoblepus, about his two brothers who knew how to do a little bit of everything. Gladio could tell he looked up to them all.

“I depend on them a lot,” Blue admitted softly. He played with the edge of his sleeve. “I’m not sure what I would do without them.”

“It sounds like they care about you too,” Gladio said, knocking their shoulders together.

Blue shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I _know_ that. I just…”

“Hey.” Blue looked at him. “They wouldn’t pull just anybody out of a fence.”

Blue laughed quietly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Gladio told him a little more about his sister. He was proud of Iris. Fiercely proud. He didn’t like that she was growing up so fast.

“You sound more like her dad than her brother,” Blue said.

“Shut up.”

“ _Aaand_ there’s the brother part coming out.”

It kept on like that for hours. Gladio had never felt more relaxed.

Eventually, somewhere in the background, a clock chimed. Blue’s head jerked up at the sound.

“I have to go,” he said suddenly, taking a few quick steps away from Gladio. “It’s getting late.”

Gladio grabbed his wrist. “Stay.”

Blue’s face fell the same way a cannonball smashed through a wall. He looked crushed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his wrist from Gladio’s grasp. Gladio let him go. “I just really have to go.”

“But I’ll see you tomorrow,” Gladio insisted. He wanted to stall for as long as possible even though he had promised to leave Blue be until the ball as over.

Thankfully Blue nodded. “Yeah. For sure.”

Part of Gladio relaxed at the assurance, but the rest of him ached to see Blue go.  

 

 

 

 

“What’s up?” Noctis greeted later that night. “Where’d mystery man go?”

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” Gladio said. He was sure of it.

He didn’t miss the way Ignis and Noctis shared a look.

 

 

 

 

On the third night, Blue arrived an hour after the ball officially started. Gladio assured himself repeatedly that Blue swore he would come, but he was still anxious until Noctis nudged him and he spotted the familiar mask in the crowd. The way Gladio was acting was almost funny, but he was too relieved to laugh at himself. Ignis and Noctis let him go immediately.

“You’re late,” Gladio greeted.

“Fashionably late,” Blue corrected.

Last time they had hidden behind a pillar to talk and before that it had been the balcony. This time Gladio had a plan.

“Come on,” he said. He took Blue’s hand and tugged him toward the garden stairs. “I want to show you something.”

“What is it?” Blue asked. He followed Gladio without question and didn’t pull away. His skin was warm, and Gladio’s fingers wrapped around his wrist perfectly.

“You’ll see.”

He could hear Blue humming under his breath as they left the ball room behind. The stairs leading down to the gardens were illuminated by lanterns on either side, but the farther away from the castle they got, the darker it became. There was a flash in the corner of his vision every few moments as Blue found something interesting enough to snap a picture of. He wondered how well they pictures actually came out. He wondered if Blue would offer him a look.

“Careful not to trip,” Gladio warned as they approached the hedge garden. The plants had been trimmed recently, but he didn’t know if there were any twigs or branches stilly lying about, and it was hard to see in the dark. He could picture a guy like Blue tripping over anything. He used his warning as an excuse to stand even closer.

Blue didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned into Gladio’s presence. “Are we there yet?”

Blue’s mask combined with the shadows on his skin made it almost impossible to make out the fine details of his face. Gladio very much wondered what those details looked like, especially under the mask.

“Be patient,” he said.

They stopped once for Prompto to take a picture of the statue tucked away between the hedges, but their destination wasn’t far. They had arrived in under a minute.

“Here we are,” Gladio said as they approached the dock. He reluctantly dropped Blue’s hand in order to take off his boots.

“The pond?” Blue said. “Why didn’t you just say so? I could see this place from the window.”

“It’s called a surprise,” Gladio said. He folded up the edges of his pants so the fabric bunched up just above his ankles.

“Well. I’m surprised!”

Gladio snorted. “Thanks.”

He shoved his socks in shoes. He liked the pond. It was quiet. Calm. He’d spent some afternoons here watching Noctis polish his fishing skills with a catch and release policy, but he preferred sitting under the tree with a good book and watching the wind create ripples in the water. He had spent several free afternoons here. It felt just as nice at night.

He looked up and noticed Blue hadn’t moved.

Gladio smiled at him, teasing. “What’s up? Scared of a little water?”

“I’m not!” Blue said. As if to prove it, he quickly shucked off his boots and tossed his socks aside. His pale feet stood out sharply against the grass, despite the darkness. The bright lights surrounding the castle didn’t quite reach the garden the way they should have.

Gladio nodded. “Good.”

He sat at the edge of the dock and let his legs dangle. Blue followed in suit. The water lapped at their toes.

“Whoah!” Blue shivered as his bare foot skimmed the water. “That’s cold!”

“It’s not too bad,” Gladio said. “I’ve gone swimming in worse.”

Blue shivered again. He was close enough that Gladio could feel it. He wanted to be closer. “Yeah, right! The only thing colder would be if you stood under a waterfall or something.”

Gladio tried not to smile. “I’ve done that.”

“Wha—no _way_.” Blue stared at him incredulously, his eyes widening behind the eyeholes of the mask. “Seriously?”

Gladio looked away. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Now I know you’re just making things up.” But Blue didn’t sound too sure.

Gladio _had_ stood under a waterfall before. But he remembered late nights reading by the fire and the importance of keeping the mystery alive. He decided not to answer and instead said, “Do you want to take your mask off?”

He didn’t mean to say it. He had explicitly promised Blue his privacy for another day. The sudden question made Blue tense, and Gladio opened his mouth to take it back when Blue said, “I guess I did promise you a day, huh?”

A day. As in, twenty-four hours from yesterday.

Gladio had misunderstood. Blue hadn’t explicitly said to wait until _after_ the ball was over. Gladio had just assumed so.

Or, maybe Blue _had_ meant to wait until the ball was over. But now it had been a day anyway and he was wavering.

On one hand, Gladio wanted to respect Blue’s privacy. On the other, he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t eager to see the man behind the mask.

Gladio gestured to the empty air around them. “It’s not like anyone else is here.”

No one else to see, no other prying eyes. Just them. Gladio waited.

Still, Blue hesitated.

“You still have your mask on,” Blue pointed out.

That was true. So Gladio reached up and removed his mask. The simple black domino piece was of no use. It barely covered his cheekbones and served mostly for decoration. There was hardly a difference between wearing it and not.

Still, Gladio held the mask out like an offering.

“Your turn,” he said.

Blue bit his lip. He took Gladio’s offered mask and set it on the grass between them, stalling for time. It was hard to see with Blue’s own mask still in place and the added darkness, but Gladio could imagine the way he might look peering up at Gladio through his eyelashes. He wanted to see if the mental image matched reality. He sat quietly, waiting, as Blue weighed his options.

“Okay,” Blue eventually said, lifting his head. He made no move to remove his own mask, however, so Gladio moved for him.

He lifted his hands, carefully grasping the edges of Blue’s mask. When Blue didn’t stop him, he took it off. He held his breath as he saw Blue’s naked face for the first time.

Blue had freckles. That was the first thing he noticed. Somehow, he hadn’t expected that. As cliché as it was, for some reason the new knowledge made him weak in the knees. Gladio stared.

“Did my face turn you to stone or something?” Blue joked, self-consciously picking at the lock of hair in front of his eyes. He kicked his feet in the water, sending ripples across the pond.

“Can I kiss you?” Gladio blurted. He nearly regretted his lack of tact until he realized the absence of the mask allowed him to watch Blue flush from his neck to the tips of his ears, his reactions for once on full display.

“Are you sure?” Blue asked, his voice a little higher than normal. And then, before Gladio could answer: _“Yes.”_

Gladio let out a huff of laugher at Blue’s nerves. He cupped the back of Blue’s neck with his calloused hand. There was no mistaking the way Blue leaned forward in anticipation, the way he glanced at Gladio’s lips before running his tongue over his own. Gladio leaned close enough to feel Blue’s breath caress his cheeks, warm in the cool night air. Their noses brushed. He stopped.

“You can say no, you know,” Gladio whispered. Their faces were incredibly close. He didn’t think it was his ego talking when he felt Blue shiver under his hands.

“No,” Blue said. And then, realizing what he’d said, he rushed to say, “I mean, yes! It’s fine! Definitely not a no.”

Gladio laughed into their kiss. Blue gasped as their lips met, as though he hadn’t expected it to happen despite the obvious before him.

It was only a moment before they were melting into each other. Blue’s nose nudged Gladio’s, their teeth briefly clacking as though Blue didn’t have much experience being this much in another’s space. Maybe he didn’t. The thought made Gladio surge forward, pulling Blue even closer.

He might have been too rough, but Blue moaned softly into his mouth. Goosebumps broke out across Gladio’s skin.

There was a whisper of something nearly overpowered by Gladio’s own heartbeat, and then suddenly Blue was pulling away.

“What?” Blue yelped. His hand was on his ear as if he were listening to something. “Shi—Sorry! I have to go!”

Gladio was climbing to his feet at the same time as Blue, reorienting himself fast enough that Blue only had enough time to shove one wet foot into his shoe before he was scrambling across the lawn. Gladio snatched the shoe that had been left behind with one hand and ran after him. He left his own boots behind.

“Wait!” Gladio shouted, his urge to demand what was going on as a romantically interested party and his urge to demand what was going on as head of the prince’s safety clawing at him in equal measure. Blue had clearly been talking to an earpiece of some kind. As much as he hated to admit it, if that didn’t scream “suspicious,” he didn’t know what did.

“Sorry!” Blue called over his shoulder as they skidded through the lawns. Gladio ran every morning, but Blue was keeping an impressive pace. He even dodged a few bushes that Gladio was nearly too late to catch. “This has nothing to do with you, I promise! The prince is safe!”

“Then what are you doing?” Gladio bellowed.

“I just gotta go!”

Blue swerved a hard right. Gladio followed and vaulted over the bench that had suddenly appeared in his path. He came down hard on his feet. He managed to stay upright and keep running, but he had lost precious momentum. Blue was no longer a few scant inches out of his reach. He had lost valuable ground.

He chased Blue up the stone steps that had suddenly appeared before them. Gladio caught sight of where they were headed and hissed.

“Don’t—“

Too late. They were back in the ballroom. Blue barreled into the crowd. Gladio swore and followed.

The musicians were playing a waltz, and couples upon couples were slowly twirling around the room. Blue knocked into a few people as he ran, resulting in squeals and hasty apologies, but he was still thinner and lighter on his feet than Gladio. There was no domino of falling dancers in his path, but it was difficult to squeeze through the bodies, and every person Blue bumped into tended to stop and stare, only serving to get in Gladio’s way even more. It was no surprise when Gladio lost the trail.

The music was still playing, but Gladio could hear the whispers that had begun to spread throughout the crowd. He lost precious seconds trying to figure out where Blue had gone. It felt like a million years had passed until he realized the only path Blue could have taken.

He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, out the front doors. He was just in time to see a streak of blue and silver reach the driveway.

Blue waved to a woman in silver and black, jogging to the row of cars parked out front. The woman fiercely whispered something into his ear as she pulled him into the car. The car drove away, a third party in the driver seat. They were out the front gates within seconds.

There was no hope of catching up to that. Gladio slowed to a jog and then to a halt, panting and doubtless looking terribly disheveled among the royal crowd mere feet behind him. He shook his head and turned back. A few people sent him appreciative glances. He ignored them. Some were not so appreciative. He ignored those too.

After a moment, the crowd parted. The other rulers and royal retainers were still seated at the elevated table at the end of the hall, King Regis at the head. A few foreign dignitaries were sending him curious glances, while others looked completely disinterested. King Regis and Gladio’s father were among the curious group, but they were both still seated. They couldn’t have been the ones moving the crowd. Which meant the life of the party was coming to his aid.

 “Gladio!” There was Noctis, safe and sound like Blue had said he would be, pulling Gladio away from prying eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Gladio waited until they had left the ballroom and entered a more secluded hallway to answer.

“Blue,” he said simply, holding up the boot.

Noctis furrowed his brow. “A boot?”

“It’s his,” Gladio said. “He took off just now for some reason.”

“Didn’t he take off the other two nights?” Noctis asked, crossing his arms.

“Yes, but this was different. He had an earpiece. Somebody told him to leave. He seemed freaked out.”

“Huh,” Noctis said. As if sensing Gladio’s next question, he said, “Everything’s been fine on our end. Quiet as a mouse, unless you count the three ladies who nearly got into a brawl over who got my next dance.”

Even that image combined with Noctis’ unsettled expression couldn’t force Gladio to relax. His mind was racing a mile a minute. If the royal family wasn’t in danger, if Blue and his companions weren’t a threat, then what had happened? What had scared him so badly that he thought Gladio couldn’t protect him from?

“That’s good,” Gladio replied, dealing with what he knew first. “Tell the Crownsguard to sweep the grounds anyway. I don’t want to miss something out of carelessness.”

“Sure,” Noctis said breezily. “And what about your mystery man?”

Gladio didn’t even have it in him to come up with a witty retort. He looked at the boot.

When it came to the castle, Gladio knew everything. He knew every inch of royal grounds and most of the people on it. Even the guests could be searched if it came to that. If anything were out of place, he would know.

When it came to Blue, Gladio had… a boot.

He shook his head and tried again. Things he did have: A face, at least. That was good. No name, but he had background information. At this point he seriously doubted Blue was anyone of royal background, which narrowed down the prospects of who would attend the ball considerably.

He also had, apparently, Blue’s shoe size. That was. Something.

Thankfully, that was just about the time Ignis appeared.

“Is everything alright?” he inquired, joining the prince and Shield conspiratorially by the curtains. “I’m afraid most of the guests are discussing Gladio’s impromptu race through the halls at the moment.”

Gladio winced. “I take it everyone saw that.”

“Including the King himself,” Ignis said. “Thankfully, it seems everyone believes you were having some kind of lover’s spat. It’s a good think you aren’t wearing any less clothes or else they’d think it was another kind of spat.” He eyed Gladio’s bare feet.

“Those are both lover’s spats,” Noctis pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. A naked fight was just decidedly more… naked.

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Am I getting thrown in the dungeons for disrupting the royal ball or not?”

Noctis rolled his eyes right after him, mimicking Gladio. “We don’t have any dungeons.”

“It may have caught my ears that King Regis is _also_ under the impression you have had a lover’s spat,” Ignis said. He adjusted his glasses. “And that it is ‘about time’ somebody really caught your eye. Your father’s words.”

Gladio was going to have a talk with his father when all of this was said and done. Ignis caught his eye and gestured towards the footwear in his hand.

“Any special occasion?” he asked. He looked down at Gladio’s bare feet once more. “Is that yours? Where’s the other one?”

Noctis cut in with an answer first. “Mystery man was wearing it before he ran off.”

“Again?” Ignis said, taking the book from Gladio.

Gladio shook his head.

“It was different this time,” he insisted. “I’ll tell you later. I have to find him first.”

Ignis looked like he wanted to say more, but then the footwear in his hands drew his attention. He turned the boot over, examining its craftsmanship.

If anybody could pull information from a shoe, Gladio thought, it was Ignis.

“This boot,” Ignis said, running his gloved finger along the sole, his brow furrowed.

“It belongs to Blue.” And currently it was the sole clue Gladio had to finding him again. What he doing? Running around the city in only one shoe? Somehow, Gladio could easily picture it.

“It’s Niflheim make.”

Gladio tensed in surprise as Ignis continued to inspect the boot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Noctis lift his head.

“’Scuse me?” Gladio said, sure he had misheard.

Ignis caught his eye, still cradling the boot. “It seems the object of your affections is from Niflheim.”

Well.

That certainly was news.

“Talk about Romeo and Juliet,” Noctis muttered. Nobody laughed.

Suddenly there was cacophonous commotion in the ball room. Gladio, Noctis, and Ignis took one look at each other before bursting into the room. There was no more music. There was just confusion and startled faces peering up at the King’s table.

“What’s going on?” Gladio demanded.

There were guards swarming the King’s table. It was difficult to hear or see anything useful through the crowd. King Regis stood above them all, his face drawn. Nyx Ulric was at his side, holding something out to the king, though Gladio couldn’t see what it was. “What’s happening?

A pale faced man looked at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “They’re arresting Emperor Iedolas!”

What?

“Seriously?” Noctis asked.

The thought seemed incredulous, but with that many guards suddenly in plain sight, weapons drawn, _something_ of that caliber had to be happening. Gladio stepped closer to Noctis, prepared to step in if any of the Emperor’s men tried anything. He wanted to shove Noctis into a safe room as soon as possible, but with this much commotion, it was difficult to judge where to go.

Ignis, with his hand on Noctis’ shoulder, caught Gladio’s eye. “What’re the chances your mystery man and the Emperor’s arrest are connected?”

Pretty high, Gladio thought.

 

 

 

 

“He _caught_ you?” Prompto wheezed. “The _Emperor_ caught you?”

“Congratulations,” Aranea said. “You were right. We got caught.”

She shoved his camera at him, practically throwing it across the small gap between them. Prompto caught it with an “oof.” His shoulder hit the car door as they took a sharp turn.

They were driving dangerously fast, but Prompto trusted Wedge at the wheel. He figured they would slow down soon to draw less attention and tried to ignore the churning in his stomach until then.

Prompto flipped his camera over and shuffled through the pictures. A few were blurry nonsense, but the last few were clear images of Emperor Iedolas at the dining table with King Regis, probably speaking in low tones about veiled threats or whatever emperors did. His arm was held out as if to emphasize what he was saying, but when Prompto zoomed in, he could see something that looked suspiciously like a vial in his hand, held precariously over King Regis’ cup.

“Jeez,” Prompto said. “I thought he’d, like, have some secret plans he was carrying around or we’d catch him sneaking Nifs in or something. Not that he’d try to poison the king in broad daylight. Wait, he didn’t—“

“Of course he didn’t,” Aranea said. “I was about to cut in, but he saw me first. He decided he couldn’t make a fuss in the middle of all those guards and pulled back. At least he’s not a _complete_ moron. Sucks that he didn’t make a bigger deal of it though. Would have saved us some trouble.”

The car must have run over a pothole because the cabin jerked hard enough that Prompto swore he saw stars. After that, though, Wedge began to slow to a more reasonable speed.

Prompto skipped to the next page.

“Oh, shit,” Prompto said. “You got _everything_.”

“’Course I did,” Aranea scoffed. “I’m not here to half-ass it.”

Emperor Iedolas was staring right into the camera, his lips pressed into a tight line at being caught. There was no way his creepy old man spirit could be looking at Prompto through the picture, but Prompto shuddered anyway.

“What’s stopping the Emperor from trying again now that you’re gone, though?” Prompto asked. “Did you alert the guards? How—“

Aranea held her palm out in a “be quiet” gesture.

“Here’s the short version,” she said. “I take the picture. The Emperor sees me. Because he’s not an idiot, the Emperor doesn’t poison the king on camera. Instead, he signals one of his guards to kill me.”

Prompto blew a raspberry. “Pfft, we could have totally taken them.”

“True,” Aranea said, relaxing slightly now that they had put some distance between themselves and the castle. “But I decided I didn’t want the fuss either. There’s nothing messier than a public fight. I didn’t want to find out of King Regis was a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ just yet.”

“I don’t think he is,” Prompto said. It didn’t align with what he’d heard of Insomnia and how Gladio spoke of its citizens. But Aranea was right. Better safe than sorry. “But did you tell anyone?”

Aranea stretched as best she could with the tight confines of the car. “I’m not stupid. I grabbed one of the guards that didn’t look like a complete moron and told him to check the Emperor’s pockets. Then I saw Loqi getting close, and I got the hell out of there. If he listened to me, they’re probably arresting the Emperor for treason right now.”

“And now we have a witness that can vouch for you trying to save the king,” Prompto said slowly. “Plus the pictures. Man, you’re good.”

Aranea smiled. “I try.”

She reached up and pulled out a few of the worst offending bobby pins, releasing her hair from the tight confines of its bun. They sat in silence for a moment as they both contemplated the night they’d had. Aranea had basically singlehandedly ensured the capture of the Emperor and their acceptance into Lucis. Prompto had probably ruined his chances with Gladio by acting like the most suspicious person in the world and then ditching him for the third night in a row.

He hoped that the prince’s Shield would at least forgive him for not saying anything sooner. It was Gladio’s job to keep the Lucis royal family safe, but he hoped Gladio understood why Prompto couldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t like they _knew_ the Emperor would pull anything for a fact. They had just, kind of… hoped.

He winced at his own thoughts and made note not to phrase it like that when he saw Gladio again. _If_ he saw Gladio again.

He took a deep breath.

“At least we got the evidence,” he said eventually.

“Doesn’t help if we’re dead,” Aranea told him bluntly. “We’re laying low for now, just in case the Emperor has any spies or loyal soldiers roaming around that we don’t know about. In a few days we can present ourselves to the king and talk about amnesty.”

“Good plan,” Prompto said. Aranea was good at those. But now it was time for the big questions. “Are we at least staying somewhere nice?”

Aranea snorted. Her eyes flickered to the car floor. “Where are your shoe?”

 

 

 

 

The first day, there was chaos.

It was expected, of course. After all, the ruler of Niflheim, the country Lucis had been on the brink of war with for years, had been arrested under charges of treason. In the King’s own home, no less. It was all Insomnia could talk about.

Not that Prompto heard much from word of mouth. Aranea had forbid any of them from leaving the hotel room until things calmed down, and Prompto only had his phone for outside company. The media was abuzz with news, though. All they did was speculate on what had driven Emperor Iedolas to act and praise the “brave defenders of the crown” for protecting the royal family from tragedy. It was pretty cool stuff, but there was only so long Prompto could sit around just listening to it all.

“Any fours?” Biggs asked. He fanned his cards in front of his face and peered over the edge the way a cat might scan the tall grass.

Wedge shook his head. “Go fish.”

Prompto frowned. “Are you lying?”

“No,” Wedge lied.

“He’s lying,” Aranea announced, sweeping by to head into the bathroom. She was as stir crazy as any of them. “I’m dealing next round.”

Biggs threw his cards on the table in frustration. Prompto leaned down to pick them up.

“What happened to honesty among men?” Biggs complained.

“You knew who I was when you met me,” Wedge said.

“We sure did,” Prompto agreed. “Who wants to shuffle?”

“We have to wait for Aranea.”

There was little else to do but play cards and think, and even card games couldn’t keep Prompto’s mind off Gladio and what the king would do once everything blew over. Wedge, Biggs, and Aranea all accused him of moping. Prompto barely had the heart to refute their claim.

Day one was a long day.

 

 

 

 

During day two of being stuck in the hotel, the radio announced that several suspected Niflheim spies had been taken into custody, but it was unknown if any more were still in Insomnia. Newscasters urged citizens to stay safe and to report any suspicious activity immediately.

Wedge flicked a peanut at Prompto’s head. “That means you have to stay inside.”

“Why am _I_ always the most suspicious one?” Prompto complained. He rubbed the spot on his forehead where the peanut had landed.

Biggs shrugged. “You just have one of those faces.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Prompto wondered how Gladio was taking the search. Crowsguard were practically tearing the city apart. Gladio was probably watching the prince the same way Aranea was watching them. Now that Prompto thought about it, he could see a lot of similarities between the two. He snickered at the thought of Gladio and Aranea ever meeting. It would never happen, but it was a funny thought.

He was sure Gladio was running himself ragged trying to keep the prince and everyone else safe from any loose Niflheim ends that hadn’t been snipped yet. He hoped the big guy was getting some rest.

Tensions were high between Lucis and Niflheim, but without the Emperor in a position to give any official orders, Lucis was in the lead. For some reason there had been no official announcement from Niflheim yet as to who would take the Emperor’s place. There was speculation that their government was scrambling for what to do. Apparently the hierarchy of power in Niflheim had been particularly precarious for a while. Who knew?

“They’ll probably all kill each other before anyone actually does anything,” Aranea guessed. “In fact, they’ll probably collapse in on themselves. It wasn’t like anyone up top had any sense of loyalty.”

That was a miserable thought. Prompto was glad he wasn’t in the capital to witness all the backstabbing. He hoped the Niflheim civilians were left out of it.

 

 

 

 

By the third day, Prompto was literally begging to leave.

“Please,” Prompto whined, dragging out the “e” at the end of “please.” “Please, please, please, please, please—”

“No,” Aranea said flatly. She examined her nails and adjusted the file in her hand.

Prompto groaned. “Aw, come on! Just an hour! We’ve been stuck in this room for _forever_.”

“It’s been two days,” Biggs said. That wasn’t exactly a disagreement.

“That’s a long time,” Prompto said. “Arry, I know you’re sick of it too.”

They all knew she was. She had taken to pacing the windows like a caged animal. This was the first time she’d sat down all morning. She was wearing “casual” wear rather than her work clothes—sweatpants and a t-shirt—but she still looked like she could kill a person with only her nail file.

Biggs and Wedge sat across the room. They were watching the exchange with interest. They hid it better than Prompto, but he was sure they wanted out too.

“It’s dangerous to be out right now,” Aranea said. “We were wearing masks, but Loqi knows what I look like. And where I am, you three are. Who knows who he told before he was arrested?”

But it wasn’t an _outright_ no. Prompto persisted.

“An hour,” he begged. “An hour and we’ll come right back.”

Aranea tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Where would you even go?”

“Anywhere.” She didn’t’ look impressed. Prompto picked a place at random. “The market downstairs!”

The market downstairs was the little group of shops right below their window. He was pretty sure they only sold the fruit they had been eating for the past few days, but so long as he got fresh air, he didn’t care where they went.

Apparently the market was close enough to satisfy Aranea.

“Fine,” she said. She tossed the file aside. “But I’m coming with. Let me change first.”

Wedge knocked their arms together as Aranea disappeared into the bathroom to grab a new pair of pants and probably some discreet knives. “Nice going, kid.”

“Good job,” Biggs said, ruffling Prompto’s hair. Prompto hastened to brush it back into place.

“All right,” Aranea sighed when she appeared again. Prompto bounced from foot to foot, eager to leave. “Let’s go.”

She sounded like she didn’t care, but he knew better than that. Aranea wouldn’t have agreed if she didn’t want to get out as well.

“Watch yourself,” Aranea warned once they reached the ground floor. Prompto was barely listening. The market was small, but he relished the fresh air. Wedge and Biggs wandered around in his periphery.

Prompto wasn’t that worried about being stabbed in the back. Aranea did enough worrying for him. Besides, they were practically in the heart of Insomnia. Anyone with ties to Niflheim had probably left the city by now. Except them, of course.

He didn’t have the money to buy anything, but it was nice to meander. There was a Cup Noodles truck parked across the street. Prompto debated the merits of wandering over just to look at it. He didn’t feel particularly hungry, but the sign reminded him of Gladio.

He was browsing a stand filled with tiny Cactuar statuettes when he backed into someone. Prompto turned.

“Sor—Gladio!”

For a second Prompto was sure he was hallucinating. But he had bumped into someone very solid, and Gladio’s startled face looked nothing but real. He was wearing what must have been his casual outfit: leather pants and a jacket with no shirt. Prompto’s mouth dried up. He felt sloppy in his ratty jeans and t-shirt.

Biggs and Wedge flitted around in the corner of Prompto’s vision. He mentally willed them to go away.

The first words out of Gladio’s mouth were, “You look different in the light.”

Whatever else Prompto had expected him to say, it wasn’t that. His eyes were roaming Prompto’s face, drinking in all the details he couldn’t before now that they were in the broad daylight. Prompto felt himself redden.

“Hey,” he said. He couldn’t think of anything to say after that.

“Hey yourself,” Gladio replied.

Prompto licked his lips. A thousand sentences got caught in his throat.

“About the ball,” he said. He stopped himself.

“You know, Nyx told me a funny story about that,” Gladio said. Prompto connected the name “Nyx” with the now famous guard who had first caught Emperor Iedolas. “He said a woman with silver hair warned him about the Emperor first. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone like that, would you?”

He was looking over Prompto’s shoulder. Prompto glanced behind him and saw Aranea standing on the hotel steps, arms crossed. She didn’t look hostile though. She must have recognized Gladio from the photo Prompto had taken. She raised an eyebrow as she caught Prompto’s eye. Prompto turned back.

Prompto said, “Listen, I’m really sorry. For everything. I couldn’t tell you anything before, but I can now. If you want.” Assuming Gladio had any interest in him still besides possibly arresting him.

Gladio nodded. “That’d be good. The King has a lot of questions for you all.”

His eyes flickered to Aranea and back.

Prompto shrugged.

“We have answers?” Mostly. He hoped.

“Good,” Gladio said. “Then would you two be willing to come back to the castle with me?”

“Us four,” Prompto corrected. He guessed Gladio didn’t know about Biggs and Wedge. “And yeah, totally! That was always the plan. We were just hoping for things to die down a little first.”

 _Please believe me_ , Prompto thought. For all his running away, he had always planned on coming back. Gladio may have possibly hated him for not saying something sooner, but Prompto hoped he wasn’t angry about that part of it. It was the truth.

But Gladio didn’t _look_ mad. If Prompto didn’t know any better, he would have said Gladio looked _happy_. But that was getting his hopes a little too high. He shoved them back down.

“The four of you then,” Gladio agreed. “You ready to leave now? It’s best not to keep the king waiting for news. That’s all we’ve been doing the past few days.”

“I know the feeling,” Prompto said. “Hang on.” He turned towards the hotel and cupped his mouth. “Hey! Arry! I got us an audience with the king!”

Which was—Wow. What a surreal statement.

Aranea scowled and yelled back, “Do you want to announce that any louder?”

Oh, yeah. A few shopkeepers _were_ looking at them a little oddly now. Wedge and Biggs stood at Aranea’s elbows, and they were giving him their patented looks of disapproval. Prompto ducked his head.

“Sorry!”

Aranea shook her head again, but Prompto knew enough to know she looked fond. He turned to Gladio, who looked amused.

“That’s my sister,” Prompto explained.

“I gathered that,” Gladio said dryly. “You ready to go?”

Prompto thought about it. “Give us a minute? I don’t think we should be meeting the king while looking like, uh, ourselves.” Not in tattered jeans and shirts, at least. “Plus, I think the good camera is still upstairs. The one with the evidence, I mean”

“Evidence?” Gladio said. He caught on almost immediately, once again looking to Aranea.

“A woman on a mission,” he repeated, the realization dawning. The same words as before. He sounded impressed.

“Got it in one,” Prompto praised. He gestured for the rest of his family to head back upstairs, and after a moment of hesitation, they did. Prompto followed. He started to pull Gladio along with him before he paused. “Hey, how’d you find me anyway?”

Gladio smirked. “Would you believe me if I said I’ve been traveling from door to door, searching for the one person who can fit into that boot you left behind?”

Prompto gaped. Then he laughed, long and loud.

“Not on my life,” he said, his words peppered with giggles.

“And you’d be right,” Gladio agreed.

Prompto wiped the moisture away from his eyes. “Then how’d you find me really?”

“Coincidence,” Gladio said.

Prompto thought about his earlier comparison of Gladio and Aranea. He thought of the way he had literally begged to be let out for a few minutes. He imagined the frustration that came from being the “watcher” and not the “watch-ee.”

“What, did they kick you out or something?” he teased.

Surprisingly, Gladio looked away.

“A certain prince may have told me I was giving him a headache,” he admitted. Prompto laughed again. “So I got some fresh air.”

Prompto once again glanced over to the Cup Noodles truck parked across the street. They weren’t too far from the palace. Close enough to walk if someone really wanted to. Prompto could picture it now: Gladio, agitated, heading out to his favorite food truck to ease his nerves and bumping into Prompto instead. Somehow those noodles had given him a miracle. Who would have guessed?

“I have _got_ to meet this prince guy some day,” Prompto said, shaking his head. “He sounds great.”

“Maybe you will,” Gladio said lightly. “ _After_ you talk to the king.” There was a pause. “And after you talk to me over coffee.”

The last part sounded hesitant. Hopeful. Prompto froze. He was terribly aware of how he’d thoughtlessly grabbed Gladio’s wrist to pull him inside and now how his fingertips felt on Gladio’s skin. For a moment he stopped breathing.

“Really?” Prompto asked, quieter than he intended.

Gladio shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “That last part is optional.”

Prompto hesitated. “You know I’m from Niflheim, right?”

Gladio stared at him.

“You’re the guy from Niflheim who helped expose treason against the king of Lucis,” he said flatly. “Out of every Nif I’ve met, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”

Prompto hadn’t really done anything. That had been all Aranea. But he still beamed.

“Then yes,” he said. In an uncharacteristically brave move, he slipped his fingers from Gladio’s wrist into his hand. “I would love to get coffee with you.”

Prompto didn’t even drink coffee, but he would pretend he did for Gladio. Or he would at least make less faces than he normally would have.

Gladio was smiling at him, and Prompto’s heart felt light.

Then something hit him in the head. Whatever it was clattered to the ground.

“Ouch!” He dropped Gladio’s hand in order to grasp the back of his now aching head. The pain wasn’t terrible, but he did feel sore. Prompto looked up. “What was that for?”

Aranea was leaning out the window of their hotel room. Dimly, Prompto could hear Wedge and Biggs arguing in the background. He _hoped_ it was about why throwing things out the window was a bad idea.

“If you’re going to make a scene, at least come upstairs,” Aranea told them loudly. Gladio choked. Prompto flushed.

“You’re the one who just threw a—” He looked down. “Shoe?”

It was Prompto’s shoe. The partner to the shoe he’d left behind at the palace. He was grateful she hadn’t thrown one of the heavier boots.

“Just get up here already!” She disappeared from the window.

Prompto rubbed his head. The hurt had already faded. Aranea knew just how to aim to get his attention but not to inflict real, lasting pain. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to hold it over her head later though.

Gladio bent down and then rose again.

“So,” he said casually. “Do you make a habit of losing these?”

He held up the boot. Prompto quickly took it from him, embarrassed for no real reason.

“Not usually,” he said. Not like this, at least.

He had the feeling today was going to be a long day. The meeting with the king was probably going to drag on forever, and the idea of meeting royalty was _scary._ But with Aranea, Biggs, and Wedge upstairs, the Emperor behind bars, and Gladio at his side, Prompto was looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like some characters are a little different than they are in-game (ex. Noctis is more outwardly playful/teasing), but this does take place in a universe where Lucis hasn't been at war for the past 100 years, so I'm willing to let a little more happiness slide.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/) I love talking to people and reviews!
> 
> Edit: This has been up for less than a day, but I've already gotten so many sweet reviews. I can't respond to you all because I'll feel bad about increasing my own comment counter, but thank you so much!!!


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